dracoqueen22 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dracoqueen22) wrote2012-02-02 09:42 am
dracoqueen22) wrote2012-02-02 09:42 am
Entry tags:
[Bleach] Past Imperfect (Epitasis)
a/n: As promised, here's the second part of Past Imperfect. Enjoy!
Title: Past Imperfect (Epitasis)
Characters: Ichigo, Urahara, ensemble
Rating: T
Warning: character death, angst, AU-ish
Words: 7012
Description: Sequel to Protasis. Ichigo abandons his future and heads into the past with one goal in mind – save Urahara Kisuke.
He wakes to bright sunlight slanting into his eyes, nearly blinding him. Ichigo flinches, rolls away from the brightness, and nearly topples off his bed. He feels awkward, unattached, his limbs not obeying him and his skin itchy.
Skin.
Ichigo bolts upward, memories of the last twenty-four hours unfurling inside of him in a flash. He has skin again. He's back in his body, which he hasn't touched in more than three years, not since it was all but vaporized in one of the Arrancar's attacks. It feels weird though, his spirit not settling into all the places right. Tight and unyielding, like a new pair of jeans.
And it itches. Horribly.
Absently, Ichigo drags his fingernails over his shoulder, where it seems to tingle and twitch the most, as his eyes roam over his surroundings. He's in his bedroom, in the Kurosaki household, and it looks like he remembers it did. Like five years in the past before it was destroyed.
How far back had Kisuke's machine taken him?
Ichigo swings his legs over the side of the bed, flings his covers aside, and rises to his feet. Sways a little. His head throbs, and he feels a bit dizzy. It takes a moment to recover. Things aren't quite the same. His body feels younger, lighter, but heavier, too. Heavier now that it's real flesh and blood as opposed to his Shinigami form.
Suddenly, he can't wait to be out of his skin.
He needs a calendar. Ichigo moves unsteadily to his desk, paws through school papers and miscellaneous other things, until he finds it.
He sucks in a breath. One. Two. Gives a grin that would put his Hollow to shame and uses all of his self-control not to laugh wickedly and with unholy glee.
Perfection. Absolutely perfect. He has all the time he needs. He’s in his past. Just after rescuing Rukia and returning to the living world. And if he remembers correctly, it’s roughly a week before Shinji will show up at his school and wreak havoc on Ichigo's sanity.
Another grin then. Feral. Dangerous.
His eyes flick to his clock then, and his expression sobers to something bordering on normal. He should be getting ready for school right now, but it can wait. Five years from now, whatever calculus he's going to learn won't do him any good. He hadn't graduated high school then; it won't help him now. What he really needs is to find Urahara and as soon as possible.
Nodding to himself, Ichigo gets in motion. He showers quickly, still bothered by his skin and even more bothered by the raised marks his fingernails leave across his arms and thighs. He's got to stop doing that, or people will get suspicious.
Ichigo can't afford for them to be suspicious.
They have to trust him. Believe in him. If he's going to save their lives, he has to do this right, or it will all fall apart and dying in the future will be for naught.
It's weird though. When he pauses to look at himself in the mirror, he knows logically that he is the same person. But it feels too much like he's staring at a stranger. His eyes are the same color, but they look darker and more haunted. His face has more youth, but something in it speaks of age. He wonders if anyone will notice the differences.
Ichigo forgoes meeting his family for their usual breakfast madness. He doesn't think he can pull it off yet. He simply clambers out of his window, drops soundlessly to the ground, and creeps through the yard. No one spots him, much to his relief, and he's quick to set his destination for the Urahara Shouten.
Urahara Kisuke is about to get the shock of his life.
o0o0o
Ichigo drinks in the sight of him, trying to pretend he's not staring, but he’s just watching a very alive Urahara putter about his shouten as though it were a novel thing. For Ichigo, it is. He still remembers the broken and battered mess that had been Urahara after Halibel had stabbed him though the back. He still remembers the sharp odor of blood, the torn clothing, the empty shell without a single buzz of reiatsu, the even emptier sheath where Benihime had melted away to nothing...
Seeing him now, alive and well, makes that memory even stronger in the back of Ichigo's mind. He stares at blond hair as though it's a new color, memorizes the shade of Urahara’s eyes, watches the familiar way he moves. Like he's a ninja, like he's been trained to keep to the shadows because he had been. Ichigo watches, and he aches. As much as he is relieved, and the contradiction is enough to stutter his thoughts and coherency.
He's come here with a thousand things to say, and suddenly, none of them are enough. He ends up blurting out the first thing that comes to mind, lacking in tact but then, Ichigo doesn't have enough time for tact. In a week, perhaps a day or more beyond that, Aizen will be taking Inoue. Ichigo has to have a workable plan before then.
“Tell me about the Maggot's Nest.”
There's a clatter as Urahara nearly drops the tray with its tea and cookies. He is, however, graceful enough to stop himself from making a mess and manages to land said tray on the tabletop, only having to rescue the tipped over cups. He looks at Ichigo, blinking, eyes unreadable behind his mask.
“Pardon?” Urahara’s surprised, trying not to show it, trying to cling to his element of mystery.
Seeing him alive like this... it hurts. It makes something inside of Ichigo clench. His palms are on his thighs, fingers digging into muscle, forcing himself to stay seated rather than embrace the man who had been something of a friend. Perhaps even Ichigo’s best friend as war came upon them and Ichigo realized that for all his human friends were the same age, that they were very much still children on the inside. Hell, even Renji and Rukia were to an extent, though in different ways.
But Urahara… Ichigo doubts he was ever a kid. Ever a little boy. And he understood Ichigo in a way the others never did. Understood that no one was more afraid of Ichigo’s Hollow than Ichigo himself. Understood that even heroes needed to be saved sometimes. Understood… everything.
And now, he’s here. He’s alive.
Ichigo will be damned if he can’t keep Kisuke that way.
“You heard me,” Ichigo says and lifts his own gaze, meeting grey eyes squarely. There's no better way to do this than to be blunt. “The Maggot's Nest. Or better yet, don't tell me because I already know. Like how you used to be Yoruichi-san's third-seat. Or how Hiyori used to be your lieutenant and Kurotsuchi your flunky. Or the real reason you were exiled from Soul Society.”
He never thought he'd get to see Urahara Kisuke speechless, but sure enough, that is what has happened. Kisuke has gone pale as he sits back on his and stares at Ichigo as though he's never seen anything like him before.
“How do you know that?” Kisuke demands as though he's abandoned all his usual attempts at subtly. He doesn't even try to deny it.
Ichigo sighs, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees. “You told me.”
“No, I did not,” Kisuke retorts, almost a touch annoyed. “And I highly doubt Tessai told you. Or Yoruichi-san. How do you know that?” There's a touch of desperation to his tone, but Ichigo knows that Kisuke is too controlled to fall into hysteria.
“I answered that already. You told me,” Ichigo says, and lets his reiatsu start to unfurl, slowly and carefully, a background sensation to the truth that spills from his lips. “You want to know how I know, Kisuke? We lost.”
Then he looks up, lets Kisuke see in his eyes all the grief and desperation that had borne using that device.
He earns a sucked in breath. Kisuke swallows. Once. Twice. Executes a slow blink, horror and confusion and curiosity mingling as the full weight of Ichigo's incredibly advanced reiatsu rolls over him.
“Could... could you repeat that?” he asks, breathless.
“We lost,” Ichigo repeats and doesn't flinch at the small lie. To him, that was no victory; there was nothing left to celebrate. “And you had a time machine.”
Kisuke's jaw drops. “I...” he pauses, leans back, rubbing fingers across his forehead. “Impossible. You... that's just impossible.”
“And yet, here I am.” Ichigo spreads his hands, trying to be patient but feeling the noose of time wrapped around his neck. “I'd show you the device, but it didn't exactly come with me. And there are lots of things I could tell you to convince you, but we really don't have the time.”
“Time...?”
Kisuke sounds lost, confused even, as he stares at Ichigo, uncomprehending.
Ichigo rockets to his feet, unable to keep sitting. He feels restless, jittery, his reiatsu coiling in and around him in anxious swirls.
“In less than a week, Aizen will make his move. I have to be ready by then. I can't let him win this time. I won't let him win.”
The last is more of a hiss, a promise to himself if no one else.
Within him, both Zangetsu and Shirosaki snarl in agreement. Yes, even his Hollow. He no more approved of the future they left behind than Ichigo did.
“Lifeless,” his Hollow had hissed at him. “Boring. Pointless. It's always raining, and there's nothin' so miserable, boss.”
Frankly, Ichigo was inclined to agree.
Kisuke looks at him. Stares at his eyes and then his face. Tastes the curl of his reiatsu.
“...What did you have in mind?”
With a softly drawn breath, Ichigo tells him.
o0o0o
Meeting Shinji for the first – second – time is interesting. And the moment Ichigo displays his ability to control his Hollow, even beyond what Mashiro is capable of, he knows that the man is impressed. He remains as skeptical and a bit suspicious of how quickly Ichigo mastered himself, but with Kisuke having Ichigo's back, Shinji seems willing to give Ichigo the benefit of the doubt.
A plan is borne, carefully with much room for flexibility, but the fact that Ichigo is amassing allies is good enough for him. He has no intentions of seeing the Vizard fall to Aizen again. The first time is enough, and it's hard to keep his emotions handled when he's looking into the faces of people who might as well be ghosts.
Gaining Shinji as an ally is the first step of many that Ichigo and Shunsui had outlined in the future, Ichigo's present. His next move is to speak with Shunsui himself, hopefully to convince he and Ukitake both of the truth. Ichigo will need their support if he hopes to have a shred of a chance in succeeding.
o0o0o
“You realize that you sound... completely insane,” Ukitake-san says gently, wincing as though his words are too harsh for him to bear.
Ichigo chuckles, but can't hide the bitterness in his tone.
“I do,” he allows and feels Kisuke squeeze his shoulder for support. “But I have an ace up my sleeve.”
He watches as the two friends – like brothers really – exchange a glance, speaking without the need for words. He watches them and feels his heart clench. There is something incredibly unsettling about seeing Ukitake-san alive again, about seeing a Shunsui who is not weighted down by the stress and grief that Aizen's war had caused.
A week after waking in the past, Ichigo still feels as though he's walking in the midst of the Twilight Zone. Struggling against fate to fix the present before it becomes the future.
“An ace?” Ukitake-san repeats and sounds confused.
“Yeah.” Ichigo grins, leaning forward and bearing his weight on his elbows. “We made sure that I'd have something to convince you. Something like who really cut Yama-jii's beard off in your second year. Or what actually happened to someone's favorite yukata. And a certain birthmark on the back of a certain Kuchiki. Or that time you stole Unohana-san’s kimono to--”
Shunsui gasps. “But not even Jyuu knows about that one!”
Ukitake-san gives him a look. “I soon will.”
Shunsui wilts like a flower denied water. He gives Ichigo a pout that’s so familiar Ichigo feels his heart clench, and it’s only Kisuke’s hand on his shoulder that keeps him in his seat.
Ukitake-san and Shunsui exchange a glance.
“Yes,” Shunsui inserts both hastily. “We see what you mean now. There's no reason to go into detail.”
Ichigo steadies himself and arches his brow. “I could. Especially about the koi pond and what really happened to all the fish.”
Ukitake, a faint burn in his cheeks, looks at his best friend. “We think it's better if you don't.”
Leaning back, Shunsui's gaze shifts to Ichigo, looking him over from head to toe as though in deep consideration. “This still sounds farfetched,” he says, stroking his chin scruff. “But I'm willing to trust you. And Ki-kun seems convinced. What do you need from us?”
Their reiatsu still shimmers with disbelief, but Ichigo knows that will change in time. They believe him for now, and that is what matters.
The pieces have been laid, and Ichigo is shifting them into proper position. He now has only to wait for Aizen to make his move. And then, the real battle can begin.
o0o0o
The largest issue with time travel, Ichigo reasons, is understanding at what point changes could or even should be made. Trying to decide what he should allow to happen and what he should prevent. How much can he change before he alters what he remembers of the past, before his knowledge becomes obsolete.
What will he have to sacrifice? Who?
How many lies will he have to tell? How many can he save?
Worse, it all starts to jumble up in his memories. The past he's lived through once. The present he's experiencing again. The future he's trying to avoid.
He can't tell everyone the truth. He can't let anyone realize how much he knows. He has to pretend he's not as powerful as he actually is. He has to fake struggling to control his Hollow and pretend that he's not capable of easily defeating most of the captains of the Gotei 13. He has to look at his friends and family and allies and not see the faces of the dead in them. He has to pretend that everything is normal, no matter how difficult that be.
Ichigo starts to wonder what’s real and what’s illusion. He starts to feel like he's playing one of those role-playing video games. That it's not his life but someone else's, and he's just moving his pieces – characters – as they are designed to be deployed.
He and Shunsui hadn't outlined step by step what Ichigo should do. He knows, above all, that saving Kisuke is paramount. But what about everyone else? Can he just stand here and watch them fall, too?
Does he dare change it?
These questions and more haunt Ichigo's thoughts, invade his dreams, take over his daytime hours. He plots and plans and worries and wonders, all the while feeling Kisuke watching him. Yet, he doesn't dare ask for advice.
There's a reason he's shared very little of the specifics about the future. And sometimes, the truth is worse than any lie. Sometimes, it makes a person break and bleed and die, while the lie can save him. Sometimes, the truth just damns them all.
Time ticks on.
o0o0o
Ichigo studies the board, brow furrowed in concentration, fingers rubbing over his jawline as he considers. Right now, his queen is vulnerable within a few moves, but if Kisuke goes after it, he'll leave his king open to take.
Kisuke is prone to risks in many things, but he’s always been one for observation first. To watch and wait and plot before making his move. Ichigo remembers this all too well.
Ironically, right now, he knows Kisuke far better than Kisuke knows him back. He has the advantage of years spent fighting next to each other, guarding each other's backs, and helping to patch wounds. He knows how Kisuke thinks. He's spent long hours in conversation with this man. Slept next to him in some truly awful places. Had his back in others.
Ichigo lifts a hand, reaching for his bishop. His fingers hover over the piece – white as per Kisuke's choice. Though he knows his friend will come to regret that as soon as Ichigo beats him again.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Kisuke asks, sounding a touch amused, but there's no hiding the surprise in his reiatsu. He's never seen Ichigo have much aptitude for strategy before.
But then, war changes people in a lot of ways. And this Ichigo has never been seen by Kisuke before either.
“It depends,” the younger man counters and lifts his gaze. “Do you want to lose quickly, or should I drag it out so you can feel like you're winning?”
Kisuke scoffs. But there's a look in gray eyes that prove he's impressed – and a bit shocked.
“Don't get ahead of yourself. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
They both pause then, however. Feeling a familiar swirl of frazzled reiatsu, and Ichigo unconsciously schools his expression before the door to the room can even open with a loud thud. Both Kisuke and Ichigo's eyes sweep over, finding a very worried Rukia standing there, Renji peering over her shoulder.
Ichigo's heart gives a painful beat before returning to normal. He knows why they’re here.
“What is it?” Kisuke questions, straightening, the game forgotten.
Rukia hesitates. Her face is paler than usual, and her grip on her zanpakutou is white-knuckled.
“It's Inoue,” she murmurs, looking at Ichigo. “She's gone.”
Silence then.
“What do you mean gone?”
Kisuke rises to his feet and tips back his hat. His face is still unreadable.
Ichigo follows but much slower. He'd known this would have happened. He could have stopped it. But he hadn't.
Aizen doesn't mean Inoue any harm after all. It's all bait. One that Ichigo plans to take as there are things he must do in Hueco Mundo. For now, however, it’s best to pretend ignorance. Especially for Rukia and Renji. They have no clue, no idea who and what he really is.
And Ichigo can't tell them that it's all part of the plan either.
o0o0o
“You knew this was going to happen,” Kisuke accuses from where he stands in the doorway. His arms are folded over his chest as he watches Ichigo get ready for their trip into Hueco Mundo.
Inoue must be rescued after all.
Ichigo glances upward, reading irritation and no small amount of hurt. “Yes,” he replies and returns his attention to Zangetsu's hilt, where he tightens the cloth wrapping around it.
“Why didn't you say something?”
“I needed it to happen,” Ichigo offers after a minute of internal debate. He could, of course, lie. Claim that he wasn't certain exactly when it would happen or reason that it couldn't have been prevented either way.
However, Ichigo feels compelled to give Kisuke the truth. He's not sure why. Perhaps it's because he wants someone to understand Ichigo's dilemma. Where he's coming from. The weight that rests on his shoulders.
The blond all but gapes at him.
“You... what?”
“Needed it to happen,” he repeats without even looking up. “I needed a reason to go to Hueco Mundo.” Ichigo fidgets with the collar of his shihakushou and turns toward Kisuke, slinging his sword back into position. “There’s something I have to do there if we're going to win this time around.”
A wave of startled reiatsu sweeps over Ichigo. It’s brief but knife-sharp.
“You let your friend get taken because it suited the bigger picture.”
Kisuke sounds absolutely stunned, but there’s something else to his voice. Something with an edge, a bite. And it isn’t just realizing that he indeed would’ve lost the chess game either.
“It's more complicated than that.” Ichigo sighs and steps closer to the man, who without wearing his geta, is still taller than him. He won’t be forever though, Ichigo knows. “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Aizen won’t hurt her; she's only bait. That's all she was ever meant to be.”
Kisuke's eyes narrow, and his reiatsu abruptly vanishes, clamped down by incredible will power. His gaze is sharp, assessing. Looking at Ichigo like he’s just now really seeing him. As if he finally does see the man and not the boy.
“Bait for what?” he asks softly, but Ichigo can tell that his brain is already turning. Already fitting the pieces together.
Ichigo shrugs. “It doesn't matter now. It won’t work anyway.”
He shakes his head and steps around his best friend, thoughts abuzz, plans coalescing as quickly as they are dismissed. He has to play this right, or it will fail. He will fail.
“Just trust me,” he says, and it isn’t quite a plea.
“You know that I do.” Kisuke's reply chases him down the hallway, sounding almost hurt. “But you don't tell me nearly enough to justify it.”
Ichigo doesn't pause. “I can't.”
That is all he can muster for an explanation, or he'll be here all afternoon. And right now, Inoue is waiting for a rescue, and Ichigo intends to oblige.
o0o0o
Ichigo's not sure who he startles more when he goes after Halibel with murderous intent: Halibel herself or the now bug-eyed Rukia. Both just stare at him in utter shock.
If he has a flicker of guilt for attacking without mercy, for cutting Haliel down as though she were nothing more than an animal, Ichigo lets it come and go. He feels it, lets it fester for all of five seconds, then tucks it away deep inside. Bigger picture. Lives to save.
And really, there is something like satisfaction here. She may not have done it yet in this time, but she stole from Ichigo earlier. She took his friend. She hurt him. She killed him.
Ichigo is just repaying the favor.
Halibel crumbles in a gurgle of blood, reiatsu flaring out in surprise, fingers clutching weakly. Ichigo doesn't give her a chance to draw upon her power, doesn't allow her that extra breath. There's too much at stake here. And he's so much stronger than her now.
Though for the sake of the others, he'll claim element of surprise. He'll claim something.
They'll probably worry about him later. This is Ichigo's first true kill. Ichigo of this particular timeline anyway. The current Ichigo who inhabits the past, however, can no longer count the bodies to his name. In Aizen's long war, Ichigo had been forced to abandon his childhood, his innocence, and what that war left him with can no longer be called Kurosaki Ichigo.
He became something else. Someone else.
But that's okay; he can fix things now. He's the only one who can, the only one who will make the difficult choices.
Zangetsu rises and falls again, blood arcing upward in a harsh spray of crimson. Halibel is still, scarlet soaking the white sands of Hueco Mundo. And before Ichigo's eyes, her body fades to a dark ash.
Years later, he's sure, he'll come back to this place and the sand here will still be stained that tainted black. A morbid thought. But still a satisfying one. Kisuke’s bloodstains had lingered, too.
Ichigo straightens, lowering Zangetsu, listening to the soft drip-drip of blood onto the sand. He doesn’t even need to turn around. He knows his voice will carry.
“Aizen doesn't care about you,” he murmurs. “You're nothing but fodder to him.” He looks over his shoulder then, meeting Stark's startled gaze. “Die for him if you want to. But there's always another option. There's always my side.”
Stark barks out a laugh before he can stop himself. “With the Shinigami? You must be a fool.”
Ichigo reaches down. He grips Grimmjow's body by the tattered remains of his overcoat and swings the unconscious Espada over his shoulder.
“I didn't say the Shinigami. I said me.” His smile is fierce but genuine enough. Thankfully, Rukia can’t see it. “There's a difference, amigo.”
Turning his back on the shocked Espada, he calmly strides over to where his friends are waiting for him. Ichigo takes his time though. He knows that Stark won't attack him; he has too much to chew on right now.
His friends just gape at him and then each other.
They are all worse for wear. Renji barely survived his battle against Szayel; only Kurotsuchi's interference saved him from that terrible fate. It didn't go so well for Kurotsuchi himself, but Ichigo doesn't consider him a great loss, not knowing what he does about the man’s future. Ishida delivered the final blow on Szayel, however, and of all of them, he looks the most intact.
Rukia is battered and bleeding, but there's a certain edge of triumph in her eyes. Glee at acquiring revenge over Shiba Kaien's killer no doubt.
Byakuya and Kenpachi are staring, the former with a coldness glazing over his expression. The latter with hungry intent in Stark's direction, as though he has every intention of testing the Arrancar’s mettle.
But they have what they came here for. They have Inoue in hand, currently being looked over by Unohana-san.
They've all survived, and Ichigo's only changing a few key things. He's saving Grimmjow, and he's killed Halibel. Hopefully, the past will remain in line with that he knows. Hopefully, he can still make this work.
“Let's go,” Ichigo says.
Mercifully, no one argues with him, though he can see it building in their eyes. Can see the way Byakuya clamps his mouth shut, the tight lines of disapproval around his eyes.
They'll be suspicious, but they won't believe the truth. For now.
Ichigo can still do this.
o0o0o
For a few months, all is silent. Aizen is licking his wounds, ever plotting in the background, recovering from the loss of five of his Espada. Ichigo knows it won't remain that way for long, and he resolves to prepare the Shinigami and his friends for the war's escalation that’s soon to come.
They have new allies, hesitantly accepted by the Gotei 13, but it's not their decision to make. It's not Yamamoto's place. Technically, they are on Ichigo's team, not under the jurisdiction of Seireitei. Grimmjow and Stark are Ichigo's allies, along with Neliel, and Ichigo has no intention of letting Yamamoto throw them in prison or dispatch them because of their origins.
So far, everything is going to plan.
Kisuke gave him strange looks when Ichigo showed him the Arrancar joining their ranks, but he hadn't argued. More than anything, he’d seemed intrigued. Calculating as his eyes went from Stark to Grimmjow and strayed back to Ichigo.
Besides, Ichigo still has two more things to address before Aizen's inevitable backlash. More demons to be rid of. More souls to save.
Kenpachi's empty eyes and Kira's blood-covered body are all too fresh to him, all too painful. He knows their fates can be avoided; all it will take is a little nudging.
A gentle if firm lesson.
o0o0o
Kenpachi is the easiest to find. All Ichigo has to do is challenge him to a playful duel, and Kenpachi shows up in the practice arena ten minutes too early and reiatsu flaring around him like a rabid dog waiting for the cage fight.
Yachiru is perched on his shoulder, perky and alive, and the sight of her is enough to make Ichigo's heartache. Her face reminds him of the reason Ichigo took this path. Not just for Kisuke but also for her.
And more than anything, she’s just a little girl who doesn’t deserve to die shrieking.
Ichigo doesn't waste time with words. He knows Kenpachi understands action better than any other method. Ichigo will get his point across in the best way for Kenpachi to comprehend the severity of the situation.
He attacks, a kidoh on the fingertips of one hand, Zangetsu gripped in the other. Yachiru leaps from Kenpachi's shoulder with an excited bounce, not quite understanding how seriously Ichigo is taking this mock-duel. He almost regrets having to teach Kenpachi this lesson in front of his daughter.
The first kidoh, a higher level offensive blast that Kisuke has no idea Ichigo has learned, strikes Kenpachi in the face. Ichigo knows it to be more distracting than harming and swoops inward, unsurprised when Kenpachi still manages to block Zangetsu. Their blades meet with a bone-shuddering clash. Ichigo whirls away, impossibly fast, faster than Kenpachi has ever known him to be without bankai. He flares his reiatsu, draws on Shirosaki's power without having to summon his mask, and slashes at Kenpachi from behind. Blood wells in the shallow wound, and the massive captain stumbles.
Ichigo doesn't give him time to catch his breath. To blink or so much as comprehend what is happening.
He attacks again, vicious slices, the same an enemy might use. One who's stronger and faster and has no qualms about killing his opponent. This is no game to Ichigo. This is a lesson that Kenpachi must learn.
Ichigo can't bear to see the past repeat itself.
The spar is over brutally quick. Ichigo allows himself to tap into the skills he picked up in the future if only to make things end even sooner. And when he stands over a bleeding, shocked Kenpachi, he has to hide his own flinch. He doesn't like the look Kenpachi is giving him. A wariness like prey cornered.
Still. This must be done. For both of them.
Ichigo is barely wounded, and as he speaks, each word feels like a harsh critique.
“I've got you down. Defeated. At my mercy and at the tip of my sword.” To prove his point, he lets Zangetsu rest over Kenpachi's jugular, not enough to cut but enough to warn. “And now what do you think is going to happen? What do you think will happen to her when I kill you?”
His gaze cuts to Yachiru, who is watching them with wide eyes. She must realize by now that this is not a game.
“Do think Aizen will care that she's a little girl?” Ichigo asks again, purely rhetorical as he has a decent idea of what Kenpachi's answer would be. “He doesn't follow your rules. He won't agree to fight alone. He'll stab you in the back as surely as he slice you down from the front. He has friends. Or minions at least. What about you?”
Kenpachi twitches. “Make your point,” he grits out, all bluster, fingers spasming as though desperate to grip his yet-nameless sword and cut Ichigo down.
There is every possibility Ichigo has just sundered a friendship irreparably. But he can bear it if it means saving Yachiru's life. If it means saving them both.
“Learn to play better with others,” Ichigo puts in bluntly. “You're strong. But there's always someone stronger. What's worth more to you? Her? Or your pride?”
He takes a step back, removing his foot from Kenpachi's chest and Zangetsu from the man’s throat.
“Think about it.”
Ichigo sheathes his blade, drawing his reiatsu back toward himself, locking it within his control. He wonders if Kenpachi had noticed the hint of Hollow he allowed to leak through.
Kenpachi sits up, gingerly though, and stares up at Ichigo with one eye. Not furious but considering. Yachiru bounces up to his side, avoiding a nasty cut to climb up on his shoulder, she too gazes at Ichigo. But it's with a wariness that wasn't there before.
Ichigo doesn't dare say anything else. Nor does he have to.
He's made his point.
o0o0o
Kira has it in him to be not only a great man but a powerful fighter. What he lacks is self-confidence, the last push to cross the boundary between shikai and bankai. And Ichigo knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if Kira hopes to survive this war, he'll need his bankai. Nothing less than it will be able to take down Ichimaru.
Luckily, Kira is capable of listening to reason, so Ichigo has no need to challenge him to a near death match to get him to understand. However, a certain amount of... misleading is still required. Kira needs a push; Ichigo is willing to give him one and a kick to the ass besides.
Even if it takes a lie to do it.
The door to the office is open. Nevertheless, Ichigo raps his knuckles against the frame to announce his presence.
“Come in,” Kira says without so much as glancing up from his paperwork. He seems tired, the circles under his eyes even darker and the lines in his face aging him considerably. He hunches more than usual, which effectively makes him smaller and more timid, too.
Ichigo bites back a sigh.
“Busy?”
There's a moment where Kira continues to write fervently before he sets aside the brush and looks up. “I can take a break,” he replies and then frowns. “Is something wrong?”
Ichigo shifts, effecting discomfort. He really is getting too good at this. Especially when he doesn’t even have to try anymore.
“Not wrong really,” he begins, tone purposefully vague. “Just... something I think you need to know.”
Kira straightens. “Regarding what?”
“Ichimaru.”
Ichigo doesn't miss the subtle flinch in Kira's expression. Nor the way the lieutenant quickly tries to hide it behind a veil of nonchalance.
“What about him?” Kira inquires, but he can't hide the tremor in his reiatsu either. His hands vanish from the desktop, likely to rest on his lap where Ichigo can't see.
“I saw him when I went to Hueco Mundo,” Ichigo lies flawlessly. “Only for a second. But it was enough.”
He surprises himself with how easily the falsehood comes to him. But then again, all he's been doing lately is dropping lie after lie. It's become second nature.
Particularly when he goes in for the kill.
“He told me to give you a message.”
Blue eyes widen before narrowing into a hard gleam. “Did he now?”
There's an edge to Kira's voice, one that Ichigo approves of. The steel will is there. Ichigo only needs to draw it out.
He nods slowly. “It's not exactly friendly.”
“I wouldn't expect so.” The blond’s jaw sets. “And what did my ex-captain have to say?” He sets his hands back on the desk, under control now.
This is the hardest part.
It took several days for Ichigo to come up with the right phrasing. Something that’s inciting without being openly derogatory and yet sound enough like Ichimaru that Kira could be fooled. Luckily, he also has prior experience to draw upon. Able to recall the taunts Ichimaru had given on the battlefield all that time ago.
Ichigo inhales.
“Do ya miss me yet, Izuru,” he recites, as though repeating something verbatim. “Be seeing ya soon.”
Ichigo's gaze wanders away to the window. As though he's embarrassed to relate this obvious taunt. But he doesn't mix the flare of humiliated-fury in Kira's reiatsu. Nor does he miss the hiss of indrawn breath.
“I see,” Kira offers after a long moment of silence. “Thank you for telling me, Kurosaki-san, though I wonder why you would.”
Another lie tumbles easily from Ichigo's lips.
“I have the feeling Ichimaru has a personal interest in taking you out, and I don't want to see that happen.” He gives a shake of his head. “You… You’re stronger than that. Than him.”
A small bark of bitter laughter escapes Kira before the rest of his emotions are swept behind a careful mask.
“When have I ever been stronger than that man's manipulations?”
And now, to dangle the carrot.
Ichigo takes this opportunity to cross the floor and lean forward across the desk. “You are right now,” he says to the shocked widening of Kira's eyes. “He can only kick you around if you let him.”
“How do you know that?”
It isn’t a demand. But it isn’t dismissive either. Kira is actually listening.
“I’ve seen you sparring. With that Hisagi guy. With Renji. You could take them both out if you wanted. Renji is crap at strategy, and you’re just plain stronger than Hisagi. The only thing Ichimaru has over you is bankai, but you could get yours too if you wanted it badly enough” Ichigo lowers his voice then, shifting to something more urging, more coaxing. “Don't let him win, Kira. Prove to him that you're not the boy he thinks he left behind.”
He leaves Kira with that suggestion percolating in his brain. It might take a day or two to work all the way in, but Ichigo knows he’s already won this round. He can see it in Kira’s eyes.
Ichigo thinks he’ll have bankai within weeks. Kira was close enough already.
And just wait until Ichimaru and Aizen see it. Neither will know what hit them.
o0o0o
“I'm worried. He's... different.”
“What do you mean?”
Ichigo pauses at the top of the staircase, hand on the railing, listening to the familiar voice as it floats up to him from the vague direction of the living room. Why is Kisuke here? And talking to his father for that matter? Isshin still isn't aware that Ichigo knows him to be a Shinigami.
Then again, Isshin also thinks Ichigo is still “out” and wouldn't be able to sense his son’s reiatsu anyway. He's gotten too talented at concealing it.
Ichigo hears Isshin sigh. “It's hard to put into words. He's been different since this whole war started, but lately... I don't know. He's rarely home, and when he is here, he's locked up in his room. Also, I can't feel him anymore. It’s like he’s not even there at all.”
“That gigai I gave you isn't the best, Isshin. Perhaps that's why you can't sense him. You really need to let me upgrade it.”
“That's not the problem, and you know it. I'm not stupid, Kisuke. He's not here because he's spending all his time at your place. What I want to know is why.”
Ichigo debates interrupting, but to be honest, he wants to see how Kisuke handles this. He hasn't explicitly said that he doesn't want anyone to know about what he’s doing. But he suspects Kisuke will understand the implications nonetheless.
He dares taking another step, carefully avoiding the creaky board, just enough that he can peer into the room. They won't see him, however, unless they are actually looking for him.
Kisuke is rubbing a hand down his face as he speaks.
“--tell you. It's not my secret. Your best guess is to ask him, but I know you won't do that.”
A look of both guilt and discomfort flickers across Isshin's face; he visibly shifts.
“The time isn't right yet.”
“The time's never going to be right, Isshin. You'll keep putting it off until it's too late. I know you.”
Isshin's jaw sets with stubbornness. “That's why I asked you to look out for him.”
“Exactly.” Kisuke throws his hands into the air, a clear sign of growing aggravation, to which Ichigo can relate. Dealing with Isshin often makes him irritated, too. “And right now, Ichigo's got my loyalty. For too many reasons, most of which I can't tell you.”
A long silence sweeps through the room. Isshin folds his arms over his chest, giving Kisuke a measuring look. Ichigo can't guess what's going through his father's head.
In the past, they never got a chance to sit down and talk about the whole war and Shinigami business. Not like Ichigo wanted to anyway. He loves his father, but Isshin is Isshin, and that’s explanation enough.
Finally, Isshin huffs a breath.
“There's something going on. I don't know what it is, but I can guess it's serious. Just...” Isshin shakes his head. “Just watch over him for me.”
“At this point, you don't even have to ask.”
Ichigo turns and heads back up the stairs, contemplating their conversation. Isshin is growing suspicious, which is understandable. But Ichigo knows there’s no possible way he can explain this to his father. Isshin wouldn't understand. And he definitely wouldn't approve of all the actions Ichigo is taking. He wouldn't be able to see the larger picture.
He wouldn't understand that what lives within his son's sixteen-year old body is the soul of a man nearly thirty. A man who survived Aizen's war, if only barely, and had to watch most of his friends and loved ones die.
Right now, Ichigo is the man who will win this war, and Isshin won't understand what his son will have to do to make that happen. He won't understand the need for whatever it takes.
Even if he has to make sacrifices to do it.
*****
a/n: I decided to go with a slightly dark take on the time travel plot. I welcome any feedback and/or theories.
There's still one more part to come!
Title: Past Imperfect (Epitasis)
Characters: Ichigo, Urahara, ensemble
Rating: T
Warning: character death, angst, AU-ish
Words: 7012
Description: Sequel to Protasis. Ichigo abandons his future and heads into the past with one goal in mind – save Urahara Kisuke.
He wakes to bright sunlight slanting into his eyes, nearly blinding him. Ichigo flinches, rolls away from the brightness, and nearly topples off his bed. He feels awkward, unattached, his limbs not obeying him and his skin itchy.
Skin.
Ichigo bolts upward, memories of the last twenty-four hours unfurling inside of him in a flash. He has skin again. He's back in his body, which he hasn't touched in more than three years, not since it was all but vaporized in one of the Arrancar's attacks. It feels weird though, his spirit not settling into all the places right. Tight and unyielding, like a new pair of jeans.
And it itches. Horribly.
Absently, Ichigo drags his fingernails over his shoulder, where it seems to tingle and twitch the most, as his eyes roam over his surroundings. He's in his bedroom, in the Kurosaki household, and it looks like he remembers it did. Like five years in the past before it was destroyed.
How far back had Kisuke's machine taken him?
Ichigo swings his legs over the side of the bed, flings his covers aside, and rises to his feet. Sways a little. His head throbs, and he feels a bit dizzy. It takes a moment to recover. Things aren't quite the same. His body feels younger, lighter, but heavier, too. Heavier now that it's real flesh and blood as opposed to his Shinigami form.
Suddenly, he can't wait to be out of his skin.
He needs a calendar. Ichigo moves unsteadily to his desk, paws through school papers and miscellaneous other things, until he finds it.
He sucks in a breath. One. Two. Gives a grin that would put his Hollow to shame and uses all of his self-control not to laugh wickedly and with unholy glee.
Perfection. Absolutely perfect. He has all the time he needs. He’s in his past. Just after rescuing Rukia and returning to the living world. And if he remembers correctly, it’s roughly a week before Shinji will show up at his school and wreak havoc on Ichigo's sanity.
Another grin then. Feral. Dangerous.
His eyes flick to his clock then, and his expression sobers to something bordering on normal. He should be getting ready for school right now, but it can wait. Five years from now, whatever calculus he's going to learn won't do him any good. He hadn't graduated high school then; it won't help him now. What he really needs is to find Urahara and as soon as possible.
Nodding to himself, Ichigo gets in motion. He showers quickly, still bothered by his skin and even more bothered by the raised marks his fingernails leave across his arms and thighs. He's got to stop doing that, or people will get suspicious.
Ichigo can't afford for them to be suspicious.
They have to trust him. Believe in him. If he's going to save their lives, he has to do this right, or it will all fall apart and dying in the future will be for naught.
It's weird though. When he pauses to look at himself in the mirror, he knows logically that he is the same person. But it feels too much like he's staring at a stranger. His eyes are the same color, but they look darker and more haunted. His face has more youth, but something in it speaks of age. He wonders if anyone will notice the differences.
Ichigo forgoes meeting his family for their usual breakfast madness. He doesn't think he can pull it off yet. He simply clambers out of his window, drops soundlessly to the ground, and creeps through the yard. No one spots him, much to his relief, and he's quick to set his destination for the Urahara Shouten.
Urahara Kisuke is about to get the shock of his life.
Ichigo drinks in the sight of him, trying to pretend he's not staring, but he’s just watching a very alive Urahara putter about his shouten as though it were a novel thing. For Ichigo, it is. He still remembers the broken and battered mess that had been Urahara after Halibel had stabbed him though the back. He still remembers the sharp odor of blood, the torn clothing, the empty shell without a single buzz of reiatsu, the even emptier sheath where Benihime had melted away to nothing...
Seeing him now, alive and well, makes that memory even stronger in the back of Ichigo's mind. He stares at blond hair as though it's a new color, memorizes the shade of Urahara’s eyes, watches the familiar way he moves. Like he's a ninja, like he's been trained to keep to the shadows because he had been. Ichigo watches, and he aches. As much as he is relieved, and the contradiction is enough to stutter his thoughts and coherency.
He's come here with a thousand things to say, and suddenly, none of them are enough. He ends up blurting out the first thing that comes to mind, lacking in tact but then, Ichigo doesn't have enough time for tact. In a week, perhaps a day or more beyond that, Aizen will be taking Inoue. Ichigo has to have a workable plan before then.
“Tell me about the Maggot's Nest.”
There's a clatter as Urahara nearly drops the tray with its tea and cookies. He is, however, graceful enough to stop himself from making a mess and manages to land said tray on the tabletop, only having to rescue the tipped over cups. He looks at Ichigo, blinking, eyes unreadable behind his mask.
“Pardon?” Urahara’s surprised, trying not to show it, trying to cling to his element of mystery.
Seeing him alive like this... it hurts. It makes something inside of Ichigo clench. His palms are on his thighs, fingers digging into muscle, forcing himself to stay seated rather than embrace the man who had been something of a friend. Perhaps even Ichigo’s best friend as war came upon them and Ichigo realized that for all his human friends were the same age, that they were very much still children on the inside. Hell, even Renji and Rukia were to an extent, though in different ways.
But Urahara… Ichigo doubts he was ever a kid. Ever a little boy. And he understood Ichigo in a way the others never did. Understood that no one was more afraid of Ichigo’s Hollow than Ichigo himself. Understood that even heroes needed to be saved sometimes. Understood… everything.
And now, he’s here. He’s alive.
Ichigo will be damned if he can’t keep Kisuke that way.
“You heard me,” Ichigo says and lifts his own gaze, meeting grey eyes squarely. There's no better way to do this than to be blunt. “The Maggot's Nest. Or better yet, don't tell me because I already know. Like how you used to be Yoruichi-san's third-seat. Or how Hiyori used to be your lieutenant and Kurotsuchi your flunky. Or the real reason you were exiled from Soul Society.”
He never thought he'd get to see Urahara Kisuke speechless, but sure enough, that is what has happened. Kisuke has gone pale as he sits back on his and stares at Ichigo as though he's never seen anything like him before.
“How do you know that?” Kisuke demands as though he's abandoned all his usual attempts at subtly. He doesn't even try to deny it.
Ichigo sighs, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees. “You told me.”
“No, I did not,” Kisuke retorts, almost a touch annoyed. “And I highly doubt Tessai told you. Or Yoruichi-san. How do you know that?” There's a touch of desperation to his tone, but Ichigo knows that Kisuke is too controlled to fall into hysteria.
“I answered that already. You told me,” Ichigo says, and lets his reiatsu start to unfurl, slowly and carefully, a background sensation to the truth that spills from his lips. “You want to know how I know, Kisuke? We lost.”
Then he looks up, lets Kisuke see in his eyes all the grief and desperation that had borne using that device.
He earns a sucked in breath. Kisuke swallows. Once. Twice. Executes a slow blink, horror and confusion and curiosity mingling as the full weight of Ichigo's incredibly advanced reiatsu rolls over him.
“Could... could you repeat that?” he asks, breathless.
“We lost,” Ichigo repeats and doesn't flinch at the small lie. To him, that was no victory; there was nothing left to celebrate. “And you had a time machine.”
Kisuke's jaw drops. “I...” he pauses, leans back, rubbing fingers across his forehead. “Impossible. You... that's just impossible.”
“And yet, here I am.” Ichigo spreads his hands, trying to be patient but feeling the noose of time wrapped around his neck. “I'd show you the device, but it didn't exactly come with me. And there are lots of things I could tell you to convince you, but we really don't have the time.”
“Time...?”
Kisuke sounds lost, confused even, as he stares at Ichigo, uncomprehending.
Ichigo rockets to his feet, unable to keep sitting. He feels restless, jittery, his reiatsu coiling in and around him in anxious swirls.
“In less than a week, Aizen will make his move. I have to be ready by then. I can't let him win this time. I won't let him win.”
The last is more of a hiss, a promise to himself if no one else.
Within him, both Zangetsu and Shirosaki snarl in agreement. Yes, even his Hollow. He no more approved of the future they left behind than Ichigo did.
“Lifeless,” his Hollow had hissed at him. “Boring. Pointless. It's always raining, and there's nothin' so miserable, boss.”
Frankly, Ichigo was inclined to agree.
Kisuke looks at him. Stares at his eyes and then his face. Tastes the curl of his reiatsu.
“...What did you have in mind?”
With a softly drawn breath, Ichigo tells him.
Meeting Shinji for the first – second – time is interesting. And the moment Ichigo displays his ability to control his Hollow, even beyond what Mashiro is capable of, he knows that the man is impressed. He remains as skeptical and a bit suspicious of how quickly Ichigo mastered himself, but with Kisuke having Ichigo's back, Shinji seems willing to give Ichigo the benefit of the doubt.
A plan is borne, carefully with much room for flexibility, but the fact that Ichigo is amassing allies is good enough for him. He has no intentions of seeing the Vizard fall to Aizen again. The first time is enough, and it's hard to keep his emotions handled when he's looking into the faces of people who might as well be ghosts.
Gaining Shinji as an ally is the first step of many that Ichigo and Shunsui had outlined in the future, Ichigo's present. His next move is to speak with Shunsui himself, hopefully to convince he and Ukitake both of the truth. Ichigo will need their support if he hopes to have a shred of a chance in succeeding.
“You realize that you sound... completely insane,” Ukitake-san says gently, wincing as though his words are too harsh for him to bear.
Ichigo chuckles, but can't hide the bitterness in his tone.
“I do,” he allows and feels Kisuke squeeze his shoulder for support. “But I have an ace up my sleeve.”
He watches as the two friends – like brothers really – exchange a glance, speaking without the need for words. He watches them and feels his heart clench. There is something incredibly unsettling about seeing Ukitake-san alive again, about seeing a Shunsui who is not weighted down by the stress and grief that Aizen's war had caused.
A week after waking in the past, Ichigo still feels as though he's walking in the midst of the Twilight Zone. Struggling against fate to fix the present before it becomes the future.
“An ace?” Ukitake-san repeats and sounds confused.
“Yeah.” Ichigo grins, leaning forward and bearing his weight on his elbows. “We made sure that I'd have something to convince you. Something like who really cut Yama-jii's beard off in your second year. Or what actually happened to someone's favorite yukata. And a certain birthmark on the back of a certain Kuchiki. Or that time you stole Unohana-san’s kimono to--”
Shunsui gasps. “But not even Jyuu knows about that one!”
Ukitake-san gives him a look. “I soon will.”
Shunsui wilts like a flower denied water. He gives Ichigo a pout that’s so familiar Ichigo feels his heart clench, and it’s only Kisuke’s hand on his shoulder that keeps him in his seat.
Ukitake-san and Shunsui exchange a glance.
“Yes,” Shunsui inserts both hastily. “We see what you mean now. There's no reason to go into detail.”
Ichigo steadies himself and arches his brow. “I could. Especially about the koi pond and what really happened to all the fish.”
Ukitake, a faint burn in his cheeks, looks at his best friend. “We think it's better if you don't.”
Leaning back, Shunsui's gaze shifts to Ichigo, looking him over from head to toe as though in deep consideration. “This still sounds farfetched,” he says, stroking his chin scruff. “But I'm willing to trust you. And Ki-kun seems convinced. What do you need from us?”
Their reiatsu still shimmers with disbelief, but Ichigo knows that will change in time. They believe him for now, and that is what matters.
The pieces have been laid, and Ichigo is shifting them into proper position. He now has only to wait for Aizen to make his move. And then, the real battle can begin.
The largest issue with time travel, Ichigo reasons, is understanding at what point changes could or even should be made. Trying to decide what he should allow to happen and what he should prevent. How much can he change before he alters what he remembers of the past, before his knowledge becomes obsolete.
What will he have to sacrifice? Who?
How many lies will he have to tell? How many can he save?
Worse, it all starts to jumble up in his memories. The past he's lived through once. The present he's experiencing again. The future he's trying to avoid.
He can't tell everyone the truth. He can't let anyone realize how much he knows. He has to pretend he's not as powerful as he actually is. He has to fake struggling to control his Hollow and pretend that he's not capable of easily defeating most of the captains of the Gotei 13. He has to look at his friends and family and allies and not see the faces of the dead in them. He has to pretend that everything is normal, no matter how difficult that be.
Ichigo starts to wonder what’s real and what’s illusion. He starts to feel like he's playing one of those role-playing video games. That it's not his life but someone else's, and he's just moving his pieces – characters – as they are designed to be deployed.
He and Shunsui hadn't outlined step by step what Ichigo should do. He knows, above all, that saving Kisuke is paramount. But what about everyone else? Can he just stand here and watch them fall, too?
Does he dare change it?
These questions and more haunt Ichigo's thoughts, invade his dreams, take over his daytime hours. He plots and plans and worries and wonders, all the while feeling Kisuke watching him. Yet, he doesn't dare ask for advice.
There's a reason he's shared very little of the specifics about the future. And sometimes, the truth is worse than any lie. Sometimes, it makes a person break and bleed and die, while the lie can save him. Sometimes, the truth just damns them all.
Time ticks on.
Ichigo studies the board, brow furrowed in concentration, fingers rubbing over his jawline as he considers. Right now, his queen is vulnerable within a few moves, but if Kisuke goes after it, he'll leave his king open to take.
Kisuke is prone to risks in many things, but he’s always been one for observation first. To watch and wait and plot before making his move. Ichigo remembers this all too well.
Ironically, right now, he knows Kisuke far better than Kisuke knows him back. He has the advantage of years spent fighting next to each other, guarding each other's backs, and helping to patch wounds. He knows how Kisuke thinks. He's spent long hours in conversation with this man. Slept next to him in some truly awful places. Had his back in others.
Ichigo lifts a hand, reaching for his bishop. His fingers hover over the piece – white as per Kisuke's choice. Though he knows his friend will come to regret that as soon as Ichigo beats him again.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Kisuke asks, sounding a touch amused, but there's no hiding the surprise in his reiatsu. He's never seen Ichigo have much aptitude for strategy before.
But then, war changes people in a lot of ways. And this Ichigo has never been seen by Kisuke before either.
“It depends,” the younger man counters and lifts his gaze. “Do you want to lose quickly, or should I drag it out so you can feel like you're winning?”
Kisuke scoffs. But there's a look in gray eyes that prove he's impressed – and a bit shocked.
“Don't get ahead of yourself. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
They both pause then, however. Feeling a familiar swirl of frazzled reiatsu, and Ichigo unconsciously schools his expression before the door to the room can even open with a loud thud. Both Kisuke and Ichigo's eyes sweep over, finding a very worried Rukia standing there, Renji peering over her shoulder.
Ichigo's heart gives a painful beat before returning to normal. He knows why they’re here.
“What is it?” Kisuke questions, straightening, the game forgotten.
Rukia hesitates. Her face is paler than usual, and her grip on her zanpakutou is white-knuckled.
“It's Inoue,” she murmurs, looking at Ichigo. “She's gone.”
Silence then.
“What do you mean gone?”
Kisuke rises to his feet and tips back his hat. His face is still unreadable.
Ichigo follows but much slower. He'd known this would have happened. He could have stopped it. But he hadn't.
Aizen doesn't mean Inoue any harm after all. It's all bait. One that Ichigo plans to take as there are things he must do in Hueco Mundo. For now, however, it’s best to pretend ignorance. Especially for Rukia and Renji. They have no clue, no idea who and what he really is.
And Ichigo can't tell them that it's all part of the plan either.
“You knew this was going to happen,” Kisuke accuses from where he stands in the doorway. His arms are folded over his chest as he watches Ichigo get ready for their trip into Hueco Mundo.
Inoue must be rescued after all.
Ichigo glances upward, reading irritation and no small amount of hurt. “Yes,” he replies and returns his attention to Zangetsu's hilt, where he tightens the cloth wrapping around it.
“Why didn't you say something?”
“I needed it to happen,” Ichigo offers after a minute of internal debate. He could, of course, lie. Claim that he wasn't certain exactly when it would happen or reason that it couldn't have been prevented either way.
However, Ichigo feels compelled to give Kisuke the truth. He's not sure why. Perhaps it's because he wants someone to understand Ichigo's dilemma. Where he's coming from. The weight that rests on his shoulders.
The blond all but gapes at him.
“You... what?”
“Needed it to happen,” he repeats without even looking up. “I needed a reason to go to Hueco Mundo.” Ichigo fidgets with the collar of his shihakushou and turns toward Kisuke, slinging his sword back into position. “There’s something I have to do there if we're going to win this time around.”
A wave of startled reiatsu sweeps over Ichigo. It’s brief but knife-sharp.
“You let your friend get taken because it suited the bigger picture.”
Kisuke sounds absolutely stunned, but there’s something else to his voice. Something with an edge, a bite. And it isn’t just realizing that he indeed would’ve lost the chess game either.
“It's more complicated than that.” Ichigo sighs and steps closer to the man, who without wearing his geta, is still taller than him. He won’t be forever though, Ichigo knows. “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Aizen won’t hurt her; she's only bait. That's all she was ever meant to be.”
Kisuke's eyes narrow, and his reiatsu abruptly vanishes, clamped down by incredible will power. His gaze is sharp, assessing. Looking at Ichigo like he’s just now really seeing him. As if he finally does see the man and not the boy.
“Bait for what?” he asks softly, but Ichigo can tell that his brain is already turning. Already fitting the pieces together.
Ichigo shrugs. “It doesn't matter now. It won’t work anyway.”
He shakes his head and steps around his best friend, thoughts abuzz, plans coalescing as quickly as they are dismissed. He has to play this right, or it will fail. He will fail.
“Just trust me,” he says, and it isn’t quite a plea.
“You know that I do.” Kisuke's reply chases him down the hallway, sounding almost hurt. “But you don't tell me nearly enough to justify it.”
Ichigo doesn't pause. “I can't.”
That is all he can muster for an explanation, or he'll be here all afternoon. And right now, Inoue is waiting for a rescue, and Ichigo intends to oblige.
Ichigo's not sure who he startles more when he goes after Halibel with murderous intent: Halibel herself or the now bug-eyed Rukia. Both just stare at him in utter shock.
If he has a flicker of guilt for attacking without mercy, for cutting Haliel down as though she were nothing more than an animal, Ichigo lets it come and go. He feels it, lets it fester for all of five seconds, then tucks it away deep inside. Bigger picture. Lives to save.
And really, there is something like satisfaction here. She may not have done it yet in this time, but she stole from Ichigo earlier. She took his friend. She hurt him. She killed him.
Ichigo is just repaying the favor.
Halibel crumbles in a gurgle of blood, reiatsu flaring out in surprise, fingers clutching weakly. Ichigo doesn't give her a chance to draw upon her power, doesn't allow her that extra breath. There's too much at stake here. And he's so much stronger than her now.
Though for the sake of the others, he'll claim element of surprise. He'll claim something.
They'll probably worry about him later. This is Ichigo's first true kill. Ichigo of this particular timeline anyway. The current Ichigo who inhabits the past, however, can no longer count the bodies to his name. In Aizen's long war, Ichigo had been forced to abandon his childhood, his innocence, and what that war left him with can no longer be called Kurosaki Ichigo.
He became something else. Someone else.
But that's okay; he can fix things now. He's the only one who can, the only one who will make the difficult choices.
Zangetsu rises and falls again, blood arcing upward in a harsh spray of crimson. Halibel is still, scarlet soaking the white sands of Hueco Mundo. And before Ichigo's eyes, her body fades to a dark ash.
Years later, he's sure, he'll come back to this place and the sand here will still be stained that tainted black. A morbid thought. But still a satisfying one. Kisuke’s bloodstains had lingered, too.
Ichigo straightens, lowering Zangetsu, listening to the soft drip-drip of blood onto the sand. He doesn’t even need to turn around. He knows his voice will carry.
“Aizen doesn't care about you,” he murmurs. “You're nothing but fodder to him.” He looks over his shoulder then, meeting Stark's startled gaze. “Die for him if you want to. But there's always another option. There's always my side.”
Stark barks out a laugh before he can stop himself. “With the Shinigami? You must be a fool.”
Ichigo reaches down. He grips Grimmjow's body by the tattered remains of his overcoat and swings the unconscious Espada over his shoulder.
“I didn't say the Shinigami. I said me.” His smile is fierce but genuine enough. Thankfully, Rukia can’t see it. “There's a difference, amigo.”
Turning his back on the shocked Espada, he calmly strides over to where his friends are waiting for him. Ichigo takes his time though. He knows that Stark won't attack him; he has too much to chew on right now.
His friends just gape at him and then each other.
They are all worse for wear. Renji barely survived his battle against Szayel; only Kurotsuchi's interference saved him from that terrible fate. It didn't go so well for Kurotsuchi himself, but Ichigo doesn't consider him a great loss, not knowing what he does about the man’s future. Ishida delivered the final blow on Szayel, however, and of all of them, he looks the most intact.
Rukia is battered and bleeding, but there's a certain edge of triumph in her eyes. Glee at acquiring revenge over Shiba Kaien's killer no doubt.
Byakuya and Kenpachi are staring, the former with a coldness glazing over his expression. The latter with hungry intent in Stark's direction, as though he has every intention of testing the Arrancar’s mettle.
But they have what they came here for. They have Inoue in hand, currently being looked over by Unohana-san.
They've all survived, and Ichigo's only changing a few key things. He's saving Grimmjow, and he's killed Halibel. Hopefully, the past will remain in line with that he knows. Hopefully, he can still make this work.
“Let's go,” Ichigo says.
Mercifully, no one argues with him, though he can see it building in their eyes. Can see the way Byakuya clamps his mouth shut, the tight lines of disapproval around his eyes.
They'll be suspicious, but they won't believe the truth. For now.
Ichigo can still do this.
For a few months, all is silent. Aizen is licking his wounds, ever plotting in the background, recovering from the loss of five of his Espada. Ichigo knows it won't remain that way for long, and he resolves to prepare the Shinigami and his friends for the war's escalation that’s soon to come.
They have new allies, hesitantly accepted by the Gotei 13, but it's not their decision to make. It's not Yamamoto's place. Technically, they are on Ichigo's team, not under the jurisdiction of Seireitei. Grimmjow and Stark are Ichigo's allies, along with Neliel, and Ichigo has no intention of letting Yamamoto throw them in prison or dispatch them because of their origins.
So far, everything is going to plan.
Kisuke gave him strange looks when Ichigo showed him the Arrancar joining their ranks, but he hadn't argued. More than anything, he’d seemed intrigued. Calculating as his eyes went from Stark to Grimmjow and strayed back to Ichigo.
Besides, Ichigo still has two more things to address before Aizen's inevitable backlash. More demons to be rid of. More souls to save.
Kenpachi's empty eyes and Kira's blood-covered body are all too fresh to him, all too painful. He knows their fates can be avoided; all it will take is a little nudging.
A gentle if firm lesson.
Kenpachi is the easiest to find. All Ichigo has to do is challenge him to a playful duel, and Kenpachi shows up in the practice arena ten minutes too early and reiatsu flaring around him like a rabid dog waiting for the cage fight.
Yachiru is perched on his shoulder, perky and alive, and the sight of her is enough to make Ichigo's heartache. Her face reminds him of the reason Ichigo took this path. Not just for Kisuke but also for her.
And more than anything, she’s just a little girl who doesn’t deserve to die shrieking.
Ichigo doesn't waste time with words. He knows Kenpachi understands action better than any other method. Ichigo will get his point across in the best way for Kenpachi to comprehend the severity of the situation.
He attacks, a kidoh on the fingertips of one hand, Zangetsu gripped in the other. Yachiru leaps from Kenpachi's shoulder with an excited bounce, not quite understanding how seriously Ichigo is taking this mock-duel. He almost regrets having to teach Kenpachi this lesson in front of his daughter.
The first kidoh, a higher level offensive blast that Kisuke has no idea Ichigo has learned, strikes Kenpachi in the face. Ichigo knows it to be more distracting than harming and swoops inward, unsurprised when Kenpachi still manages to block Zangetsu. Their blades meet with a bone-shuddering clash. Ichigo whirls away, impossibly fast, faster than Kenpachi has ever known him to be without bankai. He flares his reiatsu, draws on Shirosaki's power without having to summon his mask, and slashes at Kenpachi from behind. Blood wells in the shallow wound, and the massive captain stumbles.
Ichigo doesn't give him time to catch his breath. To blink or so much as comprehend what is happening.
He attacks again, vicious slices, the same an enemy might use. One who's stronger and faster and has no qualms about killing his opponent. This is no game to Ichigo. This is a lesson that Kenpachi must learn.
Ichigo can't bear to see the past repeat itself.
The spar is over brutally quick. Ichigo allows himself to tap into the skills he picked up in the future if only to make things end even sooner. And when he stands over a bleeding, shocked Kenpachi, he has to hide his own flinch. He doesn't like the look Kenpachi is giving him. A wariness like prey cornered.
Still. This must be done. For both of them.
Ichigo is barely wounded, and as he speaks, each word feels like a harsh critique.
“I've got you down. Defeated. At my mercy and at the tip of my sword.” To prove his point, he lets Zangetsu rest over Kenpachi's jugular, not enough to cut but enough to warn. “And now what do you think is going to happen? What do you think will happen to her when I kill you?”
His gaze cuts to Yachiru, who is watching them with wide eyes. She must realize by now that this is not a game.
“Do think Aizen will care that she's a little girl?” Ichigo asks again, purely rhetorical as he has a decent idea of what Kenpachi's answer would be. “He doesn't follow your rules. He won't agree to fight alone. He'll stab you in the back as surely as he slice you down from the front. He has friends. Or minions at least. What about you?”
Kenpachi twitches. “Make your point,” he grits out, all bluster, fingers spasming as though desperate to grip his yet-nameless sword and cut Ichigo down.
There is every possibility Ichigo has just sundered a friendship irreparably. But he can bear it if it means saving Yachiru's life. If it means saving them both.
“Learn to play better with others,” Ichigo puts in bluntly. “You're strong. But there's always someone stronger. What's worth more to you? Her? Or your pride?”
He takes a step back, removing his foot from Kenpachi's chest and Zangetsu from the man’s throat.
“Think about it.”
Ichigo sheathes his blade, drawing his reiatsu back toward himself, locking it within his control. He wonders if Kenpachi had noticed the hint of Hollow he allowed to leak through.
Kenpachi sits up, gingerly though, and stares up at Ichigo with one eye. Not furious but considering. Yachiru bounces up to his side, avoiding a nasty cut to climb up on his shoulder, she too gazes at Ichigo. But it's with a wariness that wasn't there before.
Ichigo doesn't dare say anything else. Nor does he have to.
He's made his point.
Kira has it in him to be not only a great man but a powerful fighter. What he lacks is self-confidence, the last push to cross the boundary between shikai and bankai. And Ichigo knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if Kira hopes to survive this war, he'll need his bankai. Nothing less than it will be able to take down Ichimaru.
Luckily, Kira is capable of listening to reason, so Ichigo has no need to challenge him to a near death match to get him to understand. However, a certain amount of... misleading is still required. Kira needs a push; Ichigo is willing to give him one and a kick to the ass besides.
Even if it takes a lie to do it.
The door to the office is open. Nevertheless, Ichigo raps his knuckles against the frame to announce his presence.
“Come in,” Kira says without so much as glancing up from his paperwork. He seems tired, the circles under his eyes even darker and the lines in his face aging him considerably. He hunches more than usual, which effectively makes him smaller and more timid, too.
Ichigo bites back a sigh.
“Busy?”
There's a moment where Kira continues to write fervently before he sets aside the brush and looks up. “I can take a break,” he replies and then frowns. “Is something wrong?”
Ichigo shifts, effecting discomfort. He really is getting too good at this. Especially when he doesn’t even have to try anymore.
“Not wrong really,” he begins, tone purposefully vague. “Just... something I think you need to know.”
Kira straightens. “Regarding what?”
“Ichimaru.”
Ichigo doesn't miss the subtle flinch in Kira's expression. Nor the way the lieutenant quickly tries to hide it behind a veil of nonchalance.
“What about him?” Kira inquires, but he can't hide the tremor in his reiatsu either. His hands vanish from the desktop, likely to rest on his lap where Ichigo can't see.
“I saw him when I went to Hueco Mundo,” Ichigo lies flawlessly. “Only for a second. But it was enough.”
He surprises himself with how easily the falsehood comes to him. But then again, all he's been doing lately is dropping lie after lie. It's become second nature.
Particularly when he goes in for the kill.
“He told me to give you a message.”
Blue eyes widen before narrowing into a hard gleam. “Did he now?”
There's an edge to Kira's voice, one that Ichigo approves of. The steel will is there. Ichigo only needs to draw it out.
He nods slowly. “It's not exactly friendly.”
“I wouldn't expect so.” The blond’s jaw sets. “And what did my ex-captain have to say?” He sets his hands back on the desk, under control now.
This is the hardest part.
It took several days for Ichigo to come up with the right phrasing. Something that’s inciting without being openly derogatory and yet sound enough like Ichimaru that Kira could be fooled. Luckily, he also has prior experience to draw upon. Able to recall the taunts Ichimaru had given on the battlefield all that time ago.
Ichigo inhales.
“Do ya miss me yet, Izuru,” he recites, as though repeating something verbatim. “Be seeing ya soon.”
Ichigo's gaze wanders away to the window. As though he's embarrassed to relate this obvious taunt. But he doesn't mix the flare of humiliated-fury in Kira's reiatsu. Nor does he miss the hiss of indrawn breath.
“I see,” Kira offers after a long moment of silence. “Thank you for telling me, Kurosaki-san, though I wonder why you would.”
Another lie tumbles easily from Ichigo's lips.
“I have the feeling Ichimaru has a personal interest in taking you out, and I don't want to see that happen.” He gives a shake of his head. “You… You’re stronger than that. Than him.”
A small bark of bitter laughter escapes Kira before the rest of his emotions are swept behind a careful mask.
“When have I ever been stronger than that man's manipulations?”
And now, to dangle the carrot.
Ichigo takes this opportunity to cross the floor and lean forward across the desk. “You are right now,” he says to the shocked widening of Kira's eyes. “He can only kick you around if you let him.”
“How do you know that?”
It isn’t a demand. But it isn’t dismissive either. Kira is actually listening.
“I’ve seen you sparring. With that Hisagi guy. With Renji. You could take them both out if you wanted. Renji is crap at strategy, and you’re just plain stronger than Hisagi. The only thing Ichimaru has over you is bankai, but you could get yours too if you wanted it badly enough” Ichigo lowers his voice then, shifting to something more urging, more coaxing. “Don't let him win, Kira. Prove to him that you're not the boy he thinks he left behind.”
He leaves Kira with that suggestion percolating in his brain. It might take a day or two to work all the way in, but Ichigo knows he’s already won this round. He can see it in Kira’s eyes.
Ichigo thinks he’ll have bankai within weeks. Kira was close enough already.
And just wait until Ichimaru and Aizen see it. Neither will know what hit them.
“I'm worried. He's... different.”
“What do you mean?”
Ichigo pauses at the top of the staircase, hand on the railing, listening to the familiar voice as it floats up to him from the vague direction of the living room. Why is Kisuke here? And talking to his father for that matter? Isshin still isn't aware that Ichigo knows him to be a Shinigami.
Then again, Isshin also thinks Ichigo is still “out” and wouldn't be able to sense his son’s reiatsu anyway. He's gotten too talented at concealing it.
Ichigo hears Isshin sigh. “It's hard to put into words. He's been different since this whole war started, but lately... I don't know. He's rarely home, and when he is here, he's locked up in his room. Also, I can't feel him anymore. It’s like he’s not even there at all.”
“That gigai I gave you isn't the best, Isshin. Perhaps that's why you can't sense him. You really need to let me upgrade it.”
“That's not the problem, and you know it. I'm not stupid, Kisuke. He's not here because he's spending all his time at your place. What I want to know is why.”
Ichigo debates interrupting, but to be honest, he wants to see how Kisuke handles this. He hasn't explicitly said that he doesn't want anyone to know about what he’s doing. But he suspects Kisuke will understand the implications nonetheless.
He dares taking another step, carefully avoiding the creaky board, just enough that he can peer into the room. They won't see him, however, unless they are actually looking for him.
Kisuke is rubbing a hand down his face as he speaks.
“--tell you. It's not my secret. Your best guess is to ask him, but I know you won't do that.”
A look of both guilt and discomfort flickers across Isshin's face; he visibly shifts.
“The time isn't right yet.”
“The time's never going to be right, Isshin. You'll keep putting it off until it's too late. I know you.”
Isshin's jaw sets with stubbornness. “That's why I asked you to look out for him.”
“Exactly.” Kisuke throws his hands into the air, a clear sign of growing aggravation, to which Ichigo can relate. Dealing with Isshin often makes him irritated, too. “And right now, Ichigo's got my loyalty. For too many reasons, most of which I can't tell you.”
A long silence sweeps through the room. Isshin folds his arms over his chest, giving Kisuke a measuring look. Ichigo can't guess what's going through his father's head.
In the past, they never got a chance to sit down and talk about the whole war and Shinigami business. Not like Ichigo wanted to anyway. He loves his father, but Isshin is Isshin, and that’s explanation enough.
Finally, Isshin huffs a breath.
“There's something going on. I don't know what it is, but I can guess it's serious. Just...” Isshin shakes his head. “Just watch over him for me.”
“At this point, you don't even have to ask.”
Ichigo turns and heads back up the stairs, contemplating their conversation. Isshin is growing suspicious, which is understandable. But Ichigo knows there’s no possible way he can explain this to his father. Isshin wouldn't understand. And he definitely wouldn't approve of all the actions Ichigo is taking. He wouldn't be able to see the larger picture.
He wouldn't understand that what lives within his son's sixteen-year old body is the soul of a man nearly thirty. A man who survived Aizen's war, if only barely, and had to watch most of his friends and loved ones die.
Right now, Ichigo is the man who will win this war, and Isshin won't understand what his son will have to do to make that happen. He won't understand the need for whatever it takes.
Even if he has to make sacrifices to do it.
a/n: I decided to go with a slightly dark take on the time travel plot. I welcome any feedback and/or theories.
There's still one more part to come!